


Lost Keys

by SpiritMuse



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Crying, Gen, Grief, Major character death - Freeform, poor Iggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritMuse/pseuds/SpiritMuse
Summary: "Noct!"Ignis all but tumbles into the throne room, having scrambled into the Citadel the minute the daemons started howling in pain. The elevator has never felt so slow."Noct!" he cries again, panic clawing at his throat. He knows what probably happened, what should have happened, but he hopes, hopes against all hope, that it isn't true.He hears a weak rattling breath, and stills instantly, listening intently for it to reappear.There!(Warning: some Episode Ignis spoilers)





	Lost Keys

**Author's Note:**

> After writing all the fluff I had to do something different again. I'm not sorry. :P

"Noct!"

Ignis all but tumbles into the throne room, having scrambled into the Citadel the minute the daemons started howling in pain. The elevator has never felt so slow.

"Noct!" he cries again, panic clawing at his throat. He knows what probably happened, what _should_ have happened, but he hopes, hopes against all hope, that it isn't true.

He hears a weak rattling breath, and stills instantly, listening intently for it to reappear.

There!

He runs and falls to his knees and scrambles and skids hands first, feeling his way there until he bumps into something soft, and warm. Still warm.

"Noct," he whispers this time.

"Ignis?" a voice raw and weak with exhaustion replies to him.

"I'm here, Noct," he says, trying to control the panic, the fear. He knows Noct is dying. He has to do something. Something. _Anything_.

He rips off his gloves and scrambles to find Noct's hand. The skin of his arms feels sickeningly rough as Ignis' fingers skitter across it, searching desperately. There. The ring.

He slides it off Noct's ravaged fingers and takes only a moment to steel himself before slipping it on his own.

Nothing happens. He whimpers. Maybe it's the wrong finger. He takes it off and puts it on his other hand. Still nothing. Shaking, he tries every finger he has.

"Please," he whispers desperately, "please work."

Finally he puts it back on his middle finger, the finger he wore it on before, where he _knows_ it should work, and clasps it tightly.

"Please," he says, closing his eyes, willing it to work with all his might, "Kings of Lucis, lend me- lend me your strength." His voice cracks on the words but he pays it no mind.

But still nothing happens.

"Please," he pleads brokenly, "please save him, I'll do anything. Let me take his place..."

"Specs..." a rough hand covers his own, and he stills, realising he's been rocking back and forth the whole time.

"Why won't it work?" he whispers.

"They're gone," Noct's voice reaches him, soft, rough, but calm.

"What do you mean?" Ignis hears the words but he doesn't, he can't, he _won't_ understand.

"We used up everything... to defeat him. There's nothing left."

"No," Ignis protests stubbornly, "There has to be something, there _has_ to be..."

"Specs... it's over."

"No... please, I can't- I can't lose you, please, I'll do anything," he pleads in a cracked voice, tears threatening to spill. He's known for ten long, dark years. He thought he was prepared, but now that it's actually happening he's closer to falling apart than he's ever been.

A hand comes up to his face, rough fingers sliding slightly round the back of his head and he lets himself be pulled down, until his forehead meets another.

"I know," Noct whispers and Ignis feels the soft puffs of breath against his face, "I saw what you did. The... crystal showed me."

He presses his own hand over Noct's. Curls his fingers around it. He never wants to let go.

"I know exactly how far you'd go," Noct says, "You would die for me."

"Yes," Ignis whispers.

"You would kill for me."

"Yes."

"You would... burn the world for me," Noct breathes.

Ignis hesitates. Closes his eyes.

"Yes," he admits quietly.

"Then... will you do something for me?"

"Anything," Ignis says eagerly, his hand tightening around Noct's.

"Live for me. Please."

Ignis stills. Then remembers how to breathe. It's a request he wasn't expecting, yet at the same time he isn't surprised in the least. It's so _him_ , in the end. A huff of laughter escapes him. Or maybe it's a sob. He can't tell the difference anymore.

He blinks, squeezes his eyes shut against the tears. The idea of living without Noctis still hurts _so much._ Even after all that time of trying to get used to it.

"I... I don't know how," he confesses quietly, somehow managing to make his voice work.

"Then figure it out," Noct whispers, "it's what you're good at."

He holds back a sob. Breathes.

"I'll try," he rasps, because what else can he do?

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," Noct breathes, and Ignis feels the rough hand going slack in his.

"No!" he cries, panic surging again, "Don't go!" He wraps his arms around Noctis, hoists him up, cradles him against his chest.

"Please," he whispers in his ear. But he hears no response other than his quiet, rattling breath.

And then Noctis stops breathing altogether.

He's gone.

A half strangled scream escapes him at the realisation. He tries to hold it. He tries, but he can't, he _can't anymore_ , and he shatters. All the hurt and grief he's held for ten years comes tumbling out, the broken pieces of his heart and soul drawn helplessly into the maelstrom.

It obliterates every thought he has until all he knows is this _pain_ that feels like it will never stop. Someone tries to gently unwrap his hands from Noctis, and he growls and screams and fights back, holding on tighter, never wanting to let go of the only thing that still matters to him.

But they must have succeeded eventually, because when he starts to come back to the world, he's no longer holding on to Noctis, but instead curled up in the arms of someone else. Strong arms that feel solid around him as he shakes uncontrollably.

"G-Gladio?" he manages in between sobs.

"I'm here Iggy," a warm voice says above him.

He tries to calm himself down, tries to still, tries to breathe deeply, but all he achieves is big gulps of air, too fast, and it's making him lightheaded.

"I can't," he says, "I can't stop."

"I've got you Iggy," Gladio says simply.

Ignis presses himself into his chest as he shakes and twists in more violent sobs, the grief continuing to fight its way out. Eventually it does subside enough that he can breathe almost normally again, and he finds himself relaxing a little.

"Feeling a bit better?" Gladio asks gently.

"Yes," Ignis says, his own voice sounding wet and alien to him, "thank you."

"Think you're up for the trip back to Hammerhead?"

He feels exhausted. His head hurts. It'll be a long walk. He tries to wipe the tears from his face but it doesn't really help.

"What about Noct?"

"I don't think we can take him with us right now," Prompto says from nearby in a strangely subdued voice.

"We can't just leave him!" Ignis argues.

"I know," Gladio says, "But we can't carry him all the way. We'll have to come back for him."

Ignis sighs in defeat. "We should at least leave him in his own room. He... he'd be more comfortable there," he finishes in a whisper.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," Prompto agrees quietly.

"I'll take him," Gladio says.

Ignis is glad for Prompto's assistance as they follow Gladio's doubly heavy footsteps, even though his feet still remember the way around the Citadel with ease. It doesn't take them long to reach Noct's old rooms. Prompto describes to him as they walk through to the bedroom how it all still looks exactly the same except for the spiderwebs. There isn't even that much dust.

Gladio grunts slightly, and Ignis hears what has to be the sound of him gently laying Noctis down.

He steps forward carefully until his shins hit the bed and he reaches down to find the covers. Noct is on top of them and he starts pulling at them to get them free.

"Iggy," Gladio says.

Ignis stops. He knows it's silly. Noctis is dead, he's not going to know. But he needs to do this.

"Please," he says. It's just a single word, but Gladio knows him well enough to understand and he helps lift Noct up a little so they can get the blanket free. Ignis gently pulls the cover over Noct and tucks in the edges around his shoulders. He kneels down to press a light kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight Noct," Prompto says in a tremulous voice, "sleep as long as you like. No rush to get up in the morning."

The words send a pang through Ignis' heart and he feels like it's breaking all over again. He curls into himself, pressing his forehead into the mattress as his face twists in pain. A small sob escapes him before he breathes in deeply to calm himself and straightens up.

"Ready to go, Iggy?" Gladio asks him.

"Yes," he says, even though he's not. He doesn't think he ever will be.

The walk back to Hammerhead is long and quiet. He closes his eyes against the light. It only hurts to see it. He lets himself be pulled along blindly by the other two men, not paying attention to his surroundings, or the tear tracks down his face that never seem to dry. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now. Not without Noctis. He feels like nothing but a ball of pain, stumbling blindly through the world on two legs, no destination, no purpose.

When they finally arrive at Hammerhead, he's so exhausted he can barely stand, and he leans on Gladio heavily, not quite able to stop his head from lolling to the side just a bit. Not quite caring how it looks.

"Good to see y'all made it back," Cindy welcomes them, a voice so warm and quietly cheerful he can't stand it. 

"Where's..." she trails off, but she doesn't need to finish the sentence.

"He didn't make it," Gladio says simply. Ignis looks away and is glad for the visor that hides at least part of his pained expression.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," Cindy says in her cloyingly sweet gentle voice, "Iggy, honey, you ok?"

A shard of irritation shoots through him at the question. Of course he isn't. But it vanishes as quickly as it came. He hasn't the energy for it. 

"We're just exhausted, Cindy," Gladio says. 

"Of course," she says, "Oh, Prompto darlin', come here."

Ignis hears footsteps in response, maybe Prompto walking over to Cindy. He doesn't really care to find out.

A few more words are exchanged and then they're moving again, just Gladio and him. A door opens and he vaguely recognises the scent of his own quarters as they walk through.

Gladio gently steers him to the bed and sits him down. He feels a slight pulling down the front of his coat before it falls open. Almost automatically he moves to ease it being pushed off his shoulders, and it vanishes. Next there's fidgeting at his boots, before first one, then the other is pulled off his feet, leaving him in his socks. He has no idea what colour they are, or if they even match. Once that would have mattered to him.

He feels softness touch his arms as a blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. A dip in the bed next to him, then warmth and pressure as a strong arm is wrapped around him.

He should resent it. Should hate being cared for like a child. But he can't. It doesn't matter anymore.

"You're wearing the ring," Gladio's gruff voice says softly beside him as his hand is lifted with gentle fingers.

He flexes his hand and feels it still there.

"Shouldn't you take it off?"

"No," the answer comes instantly, and he pulls his hand away, cradles it to his chest, wrapping his other hand around it protectively.

"What if it's still dangerous? What if it activates and hurts you?"

"I don't care!" he says in a sharp voice, "I _wanted_ it to activate, that's why I put it on in the first place! I wanted to use it, to... to ask them...." he falters as his voice breaks on the words, "to exchange my life for his..."

"Iggy..."

"Don't ask me to take it off. Don't... please."

"Alright."

The pressure falls away from around him as Gladio gets up.

"Let me go get you something to drink. I'm assuming you're not up for food any time soon but you've gotta keep hydrated." He sounds so matter-of-fact, almost callous. It rankles Ignis, and then it's like a switch has flipped and he's suddenly furious.

"How can you be... like that?" he says in a clipped voice, gesturing angrily, "So bloody pragmatic? It's like you don't even care."

A silence follows his words. A terrible silence that tells him he's made a grave mistake. He's too angry to care.

"Iggy," Gladio says quietly, a dangerous tone to his words, "I'm going to chalk that up to you being upset and not knowing what you're saying because I _know_ you know me better than that."

Ignis stiffly refuses to answer. Presses his lips together as he refuses to apologise. He hears Gladio shifting. Maybe crossing his arms.

"Look, Iggy, I'm a Shield. Dealing with the death of loved ones is part of that life. You know I lost my mom when I was young. I've always known I'd lose my dad eventually, so I dealt with that long ago. Hell, he helped me come to terms with it himself. So I knew how to handle that when it happened. And Noct... same thing. We've known for nearly ten years. I had time to figure it out and come to terms with it. Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt like hell though."

Ignis still remains silent. Gladio sighs. 

"I'll be right back."

And then he's alone. Alone with his head full of thoughts and pain and memories that only hurt to think about. He growls, rips the visor off his face and throws it. The sound of it skittering across the floor is only marginally satisfying. He wraps the blanket tighter around him and curls in on himself, forehead touching his knees. His anger dissipating, he gives himself over to his utter misery and lets the tears slip as they please.

The first he notices of Gladio's return is the bed dipping beside him, and he lets himself tip over, leaning against his solid body. A large, warm hand comes to rest on his back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers miserably.

"I know," Gladio says, "It's alright Iggy, we're good."

The warm hand vanishes and leaves a cold spot on his back, despite the blanket.

"Here, I got you something hot."

It's only when he feels the warmth of the mug that he realises how cold his hands still are. He brings it to his lips and he feels the heat of it radiating on his face. The smell of chamomile makes him almost scoff. As if there's any chance of it calming him down any at all right now.

He drinks it anyway. At the very least it warms him physically, and he feels a little more comfortable after he's finished it.

"Where's Prompto?" he's able to ask.

"He's with Cindy," Gladio answers.

Something about that feels wrong. Not that Ignis can blame him for going to Cindy - the two have become close friends over the years and she's definitely more emotionally available than the two of them right now. Still, it doesn't seem right that he's not there.

"I..." he says, and doesn't quite know how to say it. Gladio waits silently.

"I think he should be here," he manages, "It doesn't seem- he should be here."

"Yeah," Gladio agrees, to his surprise, "Feels weird to have him be with someone else."

"Go get him."

"You sure? I'll have to leave you alone again."

"I know."

"I'll be as quick as I can."

Shuffles, the door, and then it's all quiet again. Ignis huddles in his blanket, holding on to the quickly cooling mug for dear life. Trying not to get overwhelmed again. Yet more tears fall anyway. He reaches out and leaves his mug on the bedside table before pulling the blanket up over his head as he curls in on himself. Hiding away from the world as best he can, trying to not let the tears choke him. He hopes Gladio will be back soon, with or without Prompto.

He's startled by the sound of the door, shuffling feet, and he rubs the tears from his face before he lowers the blanket around his shoulders, mindless of his now ruined hair.

"Hey Iggy..." Prompto says quietly, "I, uh... I'm here."

When Ignis hears the tremor in the younger man's voice, it sparks something in him and before he realises what he's doing he's up and folding his blanket around Prompto instead. Like Gladio did for him, he leads Prompto to the bed and sits him down, tugging the blanket securely around him.

"Would you like some tea?" he asks as he walks to the table where he keeps the box, "I have breakfast, red bush, chamomile... Actually, chamomile might be best. It tends to have a calming effect and may help you feel a little better. Gladio, how many mugs did you bring? Do we need to go get one for Prompto? Would you-"

"Iggy, you're fussing," Gladio's voice crashes into him.

He freezes, hands on the table. All the weight of what happened falls suddenly back on his shoulders again. He grits his teeth against it as he leans heavily on the table, his head dropping down.

"Let him fuss if he wants to," Prompto argues in a surprisingly sharp voice, "You know how important it is for him to be doing things."

He should be annoyed that they're talking about him like he's not there, but he hasn't the space for it. Not with his head filled to bursting with memories and grief. It's taking everything he has just to keep himself on his feet.

"Iggy, I'd love some tea," Prompto continues, more kindly.

Ignis finds he can't move, however. He tries, but he can't seem to do anything but just stand there with his hands on the table, trying not to feel like he's made of spun glass that could shatter at the slightest touch.

Something gently bumps against his hand.

"Here," Gladio says quietly, gruff but subdued, "I brought two mugs, haven't used this one yet."

His fingers twitch, but he still can't figure out how to make himself move. A hand gently takes hold of his wrist, and he allows it to be lifted, guided through the air until his palm hits something. He automatically wraps his fingers around it. It's a handle of some sort. It feels warm.

"Hot water's here, Iggy."

Slowly, with trembling muscles, he lifts the teapot. He finds the empty mug. He listens carefully as the water clatters into it, stopping when it sounds full.

"I'd like the chamomile, please, Iggy, like you said," Prompto tells him.

He wants to answer, he opens his mouth but his voice still eludes him. With slow, stiff hands he finds the box, picks out a chamomile tea bag, smells it to make sure. The splash as he drops it into the mug sounds ridiculously loud.

Carefully he picks up the mug. It feels heavy in his hand. He turns, then stops, unsure of where to go. He hasn't paid attention and has no idea if Prompto's still in the same place.

"Over here, Iggy," Prompto's voice comes. He follows it in the direction of the bed and holds out the mug.

"Thanks," Prompto says as the mug is taken from his hands. The task completed, he stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. He feels like a puppet without its strings. A robot with no programming.

"Make another one for yourself if you want, Iggy," Gladio says, "I'll go get myself another mug 'cause I want some too."

A shuffle, and the door, and Gladio is gone. Ignis turns back to the table to do as Gladio said because he can't think of what else to do. His hands are still stiff and awkward, and he has to carefully feel around for everything because he doesn't remember where anything was, but eventually he has another mug of chamomile tea in hand.

"Iggy?" Prompto asks, "Can you come sit with me, please?"

So he goes back over to the bed and carefully sits down next to Prompto. He brings the mug to his mouth and sips at the tea. There's shifting of fabric next to him and he feels an arm around his shoulders. The blanket tickles against his skin as Prompto wraps half of it around him. He leans slightly into the other man, grasping at any bit of comfort he can find.

When Gladio comes back he ends up making his own tea because neither of the other two feel like moving. The bed dips as he sits down on the other side of Prompto and the three of them sit together in silent shared misery and companionship as they drink their tea.

"We should get some sleep," Gladio says just as Ignis' mug is empty.

"Yeah, sounds good," Prompto says, "I'm exhausted."

He stands up, letting the blanket drop from his shoulders. Ignis reaches out and puts a hand on his arm.

"Stay, please," he says.

"Alright."

None of them say much as they undress and get ready for bed. They should shower, really - they're still filthy with dirt and dried sweat from the battle. But Ignis hasn't the energy to even suggest it.

Gladio is first, and crawls in. Ignis follows, finding Gladio has settled himself against the wall. Ignis' room has a double bed, but to fit all three of them in there is still going to be tight. It doesn't bother him and he presses himself back against Gladio's chest. An arm comes down around him. It's warm and solid.

Prompto crawls in next to him, turning to press his back against him, completing the triple spoon. As he wraps his arms around the smaller man, hair fluffing into his face, he can almost pretend that it's Noctis and everything is alright.

He wants to. He wants to pretend, to deny to himself what happened. But he knows he shouldn't. So he holds on to Prompto and tries to remind himself that he's not alone. That there are others who are important to him, and he to them. That there is something for him beyond Noctis.

It's hard to imagine. He's spent his life moulding himself around the prince. Fitting exactly into the shape of his needs and wants. Now that that shape is gone, he's no more than a left over key without its corresponding lock. A pointless, useless thing without purpose.

Noct asked him to find a new purpose, but he has no idea where to even begin. What other purpose could he serve? What purpose does he _want_ to serve?

As he finally finds himself drifting off to sleep, he hopes maybe in the morning he'll feel strong enough to try and make a start on figuring it out. Or if not, maybe the day after. Or the day after that. Because he's going to try.

Noct asked him to.

**Author's Note:**

> *hands out tissues and blankets and chamomile tea*


End file.
